


come like the first snow

by orphan_account



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21525469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It’s with first snowfall haseul finds herself awakening.
Relationships: Jo Haseul/Viian Wong | ViVi, briefest mentions of 2jin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	come like the first snow

**Author's Note:**

> this work is heavily inspired by the corresponding months of the members. 
> 
> not beta'd or proofread. a writing exercise focusing mainly on imagery.

It’s with first snowfall Haseul finds herself awakening.  
  


A figment of the imagination – an apparition of clouded judgement, she walks the Earth with nothing but a name to her shadowy figure. She travels the mountainsides of white. Footsteps follow behind her like a trail only to be blanketed by a sliver of ice that slides from the slanted plains like tears; snow like rain like tears like stars.

  
A rabbit stumbles its way clumsily across the white snow. She kneels to pick the trembling animal, her cold hands pressing into the warmth of the spotted white fur.

  
“Good morning,” she says. The rabbit’s nose twitch in response, her eyes closing. “Thank you for waiting. I will see you next autumn, Heejin.”

  
The rabbit’s ears twitch a last goodbye. A small fluttering breath of silver leaves the rabbit’s open mouth – Haseul watches as the spirit dances in the star-lit sky, bounding in the direction of the moon – up, up, and up.

  
Soft fur grazes the skin of Haseul’s ankle. An orange cat sits at her feet, forlorn. She, too, watches as the rabbit rises and swells, shattering in the air.

  
“She’s gone to the moon,” Haseul says quietly. “You’ll see her again come the fallen leaves, Hyunjin.”

  
The cat gives a soft meow. Haseul bends down, picking the girl in her arms. Together they walk until Hyunjin, too, disappears with the change of the season – gone is November in the brisk wind, of snow fluttering from the heavens. With a single breath, like dew clinging to the leaves in morn, Hyunjin disappears from the Earth, up and up and up into the heavens following her beloved into the moon shining above.

  
\--

  
With the advent of the new year comes a frog in her midst, a small child, lively and excitable. Haseul likes her quite a bit – and they travel together. Younger holding onto the older’s hand as they wander the snowy mountains.

  
Yeojin appears, sliding through the light of the auroras onto Earth with a plant of her feet. Assured and confident, her laughter swells with the rise of dawn and decrescendos with the fall of dusk; she, like Haseul, is bound to the snow.

  
“Would you like to hear about fall?” Haseul asks.

  
Yeojin nods, “Tell me about the colors.”

  
While snow filters white, silver, grey and black, the vivid colors of the world before their appearance strikes the girl. Haseul has only seen the ends of it herself, the tails of the colors, shriveled and brown, but she had been lucky this year.

  
This year, winter had come early. Early enough to be greeted with streaks of green and orange and pink and yellow that flutter to the ground below.

  
Yeojin would never see such beauty in death.

  
But she, unlike Haseul, sees the gentle pastels of spring.

  
\--

  
Winter comes and goes, like the tide of a storm, like the wane of the moon.

  
The snow below them lessens, the ice melting into storms that inevitably fill the cerulean blue of summer to come.

  
They see with the arrival of the end, wolf tracks pressed against the thinning layer of white. Beneath, brown and black encroach the pure surface.

  
Yeojin loosens her grip on Haseul’s arm. Haseul distances herself from the girl – surely, but slowly.

  
“Do you think you’ll see spring this year?”

  
Haseul breathes white into the air. The vapors, weak and thin, dance across the skin of her nose. That enough is an answer for both.

  
“No.”

  
Yeojin hums. “Would you like to?”

  
Haseul thinks of the girl she’s seen only in the corner of her eyes – the radiating pink and green and brown, the tracks of life following her every step. She thinks of the girl that brightens the world with life – of new beginnings and things to come.

  
She thinks of her, wishing, hoping that April spring showers may still bring clouds of snow with her.

  
“Yes.”

  
Haseul thinks of the beautiful deer she’s seen only in the heavens above, of rain like tears that fall to nourish the lands below.

  
She thinks this is how Hyunjin feels, wandering the Earth, waiting for next October – of fall, of fallen leaves. Haseul, too, waits for melting snow – of green blossoms that bloom into pretty pink flowers.

  
She waits for spring with her last dying breath.

  
\--

  
  
Spring is late.

  
Yeojin carries the small bird in her arms, cradled softly, cautiously.

  
She stands in front of a cave, the gaping entrance blowing warm air that wanes at her own existence. A figure of pink and white emerges with the appearance of warm April rain.

  
“Thank you,” the figure says kindly to the girl. Yeojin places the snowy white bird into Vivi’s cradled hands.

  
“She’s been waiting,” Yeojin says. The light of ice glitters from her the corner of her eyes. “She’s been waiting for spring.”

  
Vivi holds the bird upwards, kissing the head gently.

  
A single feather is left where December had existed, her spirit rising to the heavens like the seasons before. Spring takes the feather in her hands, tucking the remnants of Winter into her heart until the bright red of summer heat and cooling blue of oceans below would come to take it from her.

  
“Thank you,” Vivi says, holding her hand out for Yeojin to grasp. The little one does without hesitation, like morning frost nipping at the budding leaves.

  
Spring had finally come.

  
\--

  
They meet in the passing of winter and spring.

  
They separate after the briefest of glances, the quietest touch.

  
They disappear with the seasons, coming and going as the Earth continues to rotate on its axis, dictated by the moon above.

  
Like the first snow, like the first rain, they come.

**Author's Note:**

> tw/cc: @chuchuuwuo
> 
> written and inspired by "i will go to you like the first snow" by ailee.
> 
> i thought a lot of greek mythology imagery and seasons since we're also in a cusp stage currently. thank you for reading !


End file.
